


Charles Dickens Has Much to Answer For

by misslucyjane



Category: Black Books
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: Or, How Bernard Black Came Hate the Holidays a Little Bit Less





	Charles Dickens Has Much to Answer For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbichicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbichicken/gifts).



## Bah Humbug, Fa la la

"Figure skating," says Fran and plunks down a pair of ice skates on Bernard's desk. "You and Manny are coming with me."

Bernard squints at her through a haze of cigarette smoke and Anthony Trollop. "If I wanted to break my ankles I'd wear platform shoes and dance down staircases," seems to be the best response, and he turns the page.

"Bernard," sternly, as Fran pulls over a chair to sit in front of the desk. "It's Christmas, it's tradition, and you need to get out of the shop sometimes. Your bum is permanently imprinted with the pattern on the seat cushion. Your limbs creak when you move. You rattle so much that up and down the street you're known as Marley's Ghost."

"People use 'tradition' like a bludgeon," Bernard complains. "We eat turkey because it's tradition. We put up trees because it's tradition. We sing carols because it's tradition. Well, _I_ refuse to kowtow to tradition just because it's tradition. You want me to participate in a holiday, give me a better reason, like alcohol or cold hard cash." He returns to his book.

Manny ambles over from where he'd been helping a customer. "I'll come with you, Fran."

She gives him a sweet smile in return. "Thank you, Manny." She turns to Bernard. "See? Manny's coming. We're going to skate. It'll be lovely. We can get mulled wine at the rink."

Wine, even mulled, is a promising prospect. Bernard marks his place and shuts the book. "Don't expect me to sing carols," he says, and Fran leaps up, delighted, and finally moves her skates from the desk. 

"See you at six!" she chirps and all but dances out of the shop.

"Stop encouraging her," Bernard says to Manny. "She'll have you in ugly jumpers and singing 'Good King Wenceslas' if you're not careful."

"Oh, it's just the holidays," says Manny, taking the chair, and he puts up his feet on the corner of Bernard's desk. "Everybody goes overboard when December starts."

A quick glance around the shop reveals that 'overboard' in Black Books means... the trash has been taken out.

"This place could do with a bit of the holiday spirit," continues Manny. "Some tinsel, a small tree or two, maybe some Christmas music?"

"No," says Bernard and lays his forehead on the desk. "No. No. No. No. No. No."

A customer approaches the desk, book in hand. "How much for this, please?"

"No," continues Bernard. "No. No."

"Two pound fifty," says Manny and takes the customer's money. 

"No, no, no."

The customer looks concerned. "Is he all right?"

"No, no, no."

"He's just having an allergic reaction to Christmas," Manny assures the customer. "We just need to apply some whiskey and he'll be right as rain." He hustles her on her way before Bernard's chorus of no's becomes menacing -- though it may already be, given the way the other customers are edging away from the desk.

By the time Manny has returned to the desk, Bernard has lifted his head. "It's bad enough that we're having a Christmas rush," he complains. The six remaining customers look at each other. "You can't seriously expect me to _encourage_ them to come in with music and lights and ugly jumpers."

"The balance sheet could use an ugly jumper or two," says Manny. "Just come to the skating rink tonight. The fresh air will do you good."

"Fresh air," mutters Bernard. "What has fresh air ever done for me?"

## The Christmas Box (of Wine)

The horror.

The horror.

Colored lights twinkle around the rink. Carols play over the music system. Tots with long scarves and bobble hats lumber across the ice, clinging to their parents' hands or the side of the rink. And there are adults wearing Santa caps.

_Adults._

Bernard gets his mulled wine and drinks it as he walks beside Fran. He has to admit, she's good at this -- not that he'll ever say so, Fran only wants to be good at things she's not already good at -- and so she makes a circuit around the ring as he takes a few steps.

(Perhaps it's no wonder he's not sliding all over the ice. His shoes are so scuffed and ancient they remember when Thatcher was in office.)

"Bernard, they're going to throw you out," says Manny as he glides past. He is, of course, also good at this. Bernard blames Manny's sickeningly normal childhood. "You're not supposed to be on the ice without skates."

"Says who?" Bernard says and has more wine.

"Says the attendant who's giving you some very suspicious looks right now," replies Manny.

Bernard looks in the direction of the attendant, whose arms are crossed and face is scowling. Bernard makes a similar face in return and imitates a spinning sort of jump one of the better skaters has been making in the center of the ring.

He doesn't even spill his wine.

But since everyone in the rink are heathens who don't appreciate skill, no one applauds. Bernard has another sip and rejoins Manny, who has now also been joined by Fran.

"Bernard," she cajoles him, "put on some skates. Just for one spin around. Please?" She tugs on his coat lapel. "It's Christmas."

"That excuse doesn't work on me," Bernard says, and scowls at the attendant who has moved on from giving Bernard the stink-eye to coming onto the ice himself.

"Oi," he says, "you have to have skates to be on the ice. Off with you, now."

"You're not wearing skates," says Bernard. 

"Yeah, but I work here. You want to get a job here, then you can walk on the ice without skates."

Bernard considers it. "What's the pay?"

"Shite," says the attendant.

"Nah," says Bernard. "I already make that." He turns to the other skaters. "Let this be a lesson to you all! Never let anyone persuade you to do something for the sole reason that it's tradition! It will only end in tears and pain!"

"All right, enough of you," says the attendant, grabbing Bernard's arm. There must be cleats in his boots because he doesn't slide at all as he drags Bernard off the ice.

## God Bless Us, Because No One Else Will

Manny and Fran walk home together, laughing quite a bit because of wine and Christmastime. (Mostly because of wine.)

But when they reach Bloomsbury and the road with their shops, they pass a bedraggled group of carolers, their Santa caps and festive jumpers wet and flecked with foam.

Fran and Manny look at each other. They say together, "Bernard," and hurry down to Black Books.

The shop is dark. Manny lets himself in carefully -- and is met full in the face with a blast of foam from a fire extinguisher.

"Sorry," says Bernard's voice in the dark. "Thought you were those carolers again."

Manny wipes his face. "Bernard," he says patiently, "why are you spraying carolers with a fire extinguisher?"

"Manny," Bernard says in a similarly patient tone, "I sprayed the carolers with a fire extinguisher because they had candles."

"Bernard," says Manny, "why would you spray carolers with a fire extinguisher because they had candles?"

"Manny," says Bernard, "I sprayed carolers with a fire extinguisher because they had candles, therefore they _were on fire_."

"You're ridiculous, Bernard," says Fran, pushing past Manny to come into the store. She, Manny notes, does not get sprayed by a fire extinguisher. "There's being a curmudgeon and then there's being deliberately unpleasant!"

Bernard makes to lift the fire extinguisher, but then lets it fall into his lap again. 

Fran stalks to him. "I have had a miserable year, and now I am trying to have a good holiday, and I _will_ have one, with or without you, Bernard Black. Mark my words." She turns and stalks out.

Bernard doesn't say anything for a moment, as he sits, unmoving, his gaze vacant. He finally looks at Manny. "Tea?"

"Yeah, of course," Manny replies, and goes into the kitchen.

## One More Drink 'til Christmas

Because they are such good friends (and because Manny fancies Fran, which she must never, never know, which is why he has never said a word about it to Bernard), Manny decides to do what he can to help her have a good holiday. He buys some fairy lights and strings them up around the bookshop, and places a mini-Christmas tree on the desk. He wears an ugly jumper. He writes, "Gift wrapping available on request!" on the blackboard, and even keeps a few rolls of wrapping paper and bags of bows nearby in case someone takes him up on it.

(He does not play Christmas music, because that would push Bernard's patience to the limit and he senses it will be hard enough to convince Bernard to do even these little things to make the shop a little more welcoming to holiday shoppers.)

He spends an hour before the shop opens decorating -- it is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, right? -- and when Bernard pushes aside the curtain between the shop and the kitchen, Manny stands up straight and proud and says, "What do you think, Bernard?"

Bernard walks into the shop. he paces slowly from the mini-tree to the wrapping paper to the fairy lights. He takes it all in.

He has a sip of his breakfast whiskey.

He yanks on the string of lights and drops them to the floor, and jumps on them. Manny winces at every spark and crunch, and when Bernard picks up the sad little string, Manny holds out his hand for Bernard to drop them in.

"No Christmas," Bernard says, and goes back into the kitchen.

Manny stands there. The Little Book of Calm tells him to recite the serenity prayer.

Frankly, fuck the Little Book of Calm.

Manny stalks into the kitchen. "Bernard Black," he says, "you are the worst, most frustrating person I have ever encountered. All I'm trying to do is bring a little holiday cheer to this dismal place, and you stomp all over it -- literally!" He shakes the string of lights. "Instead of appreciating my efforts, or, God helps us all, helping out! It's your shop, Bernard! You want people to come in and buy a book sometimes! I know you hate that bit of the business but it must be done!"

He throws the lights on the table and leaves the shop. If Bernard wants to take the rest of it down, he can do it by himself.

Manny goes to Fran's shop instead, and helps her hang lights, choose music, and wrap gifts for the rest of the day.

## Happy Christmas, Blah Blah Blah

"So that's Christmas Eve sorted," says Fran as she locks her shop door. "How do you suppose Himself fared today?"

"I hope the pile of books fell on him and he's spent the day with a copy of _The Rise and Fall of The Roman Empire_ stuck in his eye," says Manny.

"No, you don't," Fran says gently.

"No, I don't," Manny says with a sigh, "but I'm still cross with him. It's not even about the money. It's just -- the idea. One day, one simple day, when people are kind to each other and enjoy pretty lights and drink eggnog. It's not that hard a concept, really."

"I suppose he thinks he's protesting materialism or some such nonsense," says Fran as she snuggles deep into her scarf. She takes Manny's arm. "But what matters is how the day makes you feel, and Manny, dearie, you've helped me feel very good about the day."

"I'm glad, Fran." 

She kisses his cheek and he walks her to her car, and he waves once as she drives away.

Manny takes a deep breath once Fran is out of sight. The trouble with living where you work is that when you have a fight with your boss, you still have to deal with your flatmate. He goes to Black Books, expecting it to be dark and desolate, any potential customers having stayed far, far away.

The first thing he sees is a hand-lettered sign in the glass of the front door that reads, _Extended holiday hours 10-6_. The last customer is just leaving as Manny opens the door, and they exchange nods and "Happy Christmas."

Manny enters the shop. The books on the center table are tidied -- not just tidied, but _arranged_ , and in a suspiciously tree-like manner.

With fairy lights.

Manny ventures further. The little tree is still on the desk. The blackboard still reads "Gift Wrapping Available on Request," and there are empty spools where paper used to be in the bag he had brought. 

Bernard sits at the desk, smoking and reading, like usual. He doesn't look up as Manny takes the chair.

"I spent the day helping out Fran."

"Hm."

"I hope it wasn't too busy for you here."

"It was dreadful," says Bernard and turns the page. "People all day."

"Sorry," says Manny.

"We're closed tomorrow."

"Of course."

Bernard nods to the bottle of scotch on the desk. "Help yourself."

"Thanks." Manny pours himself a few swallows into what he hopes is a clean glass, and has a sip. He says cautiously, "Next year we can plan better."

"Hm."

Well, it's not an outright No. Manny may have to remind Bernard next December -- but he'll worry about that next December.

"Bernard," says Manny, holding out his glass to clink against Bernard's, "happy Christmas."

Bernard looks at Manny's glass, then at his own. He picks it up, finishes it off, and pours himself a new helping. He clicks it against Manny's.

"If you insist."

End.


End file.
